Crown of Magic Read online

  Avery slid the photos back into the envelope. “Thanks, Caspian. I’m going to see Briar later this morning. I’ll let you know what she says.”

  “If it is him, I’ll obviously help to put this right. Well,” he shrugged. “I’ll help anyway, if you need me to. Oh, and I was wrong about the sigil. I saw similar ones in the books I consulted, but nothing quite like that. But that’s probably because there are several combined.”

  “That’s okay,” Avery said, resigned. “Thanks for checking anyway.”

  Caspian glanced at his watch and turned to go. “I’ll collect the photos at some point. Just leave them at the counter when you’ve finished with them.”

  Dan watched him go, and then looked at Avery speculatively. “What happened to Caspian?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was civil.”

  “He’s been civil for months—and very helpful.”

  “Mmm. The things we do for love!” he said with a gleam in his eye.

  Avery glared at him. “Dan, don’t start.”

  “Start what?”

  “You know very well what.”

  “All I will say is that you made the right choice. Alex is way cooler.”

  “There was no choice! It’s not like Caspian was ever an option!” she hissed.

  “But he wishes he was. Anyway,” Dan said, sliding out from behind the counter. “I have some shelf stacking to do.” And before Avery could say anything else, he left her stewing with annoyance.

  Avery was aiming to head out at about eleven, and kept herself busy until then, trying to distract herself from Alex’s absence, but then just as she was planning to leave, he arrived carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. A feeling of utter relief swept over Avery as she looked at him. He paused in the threshold of the shop, just watching her for a moment with an almost unfathomable expression on his face before he walked over, swept her into his arms, and kissed her, earning a round of applause from the surrounding customers.

  “Steady on, fella,” one of Avery’s regular customers said, an older man in his sixties. “This is a public place, you know.”

  He was clearly joking, but his wife nudged him anyway. “You could learn a few lessons from him.” She dropped her voice and winked at Avery. “Lucky you, my dear.”

  Avery laughed, flustered as she righted herself and accepted the flowers from Alex. “They’re beautiful. But you didn’t need to do this.”

  “Yes, I did.” He looked around at the curious faces and pulled her towards the back room with a mock bow at the customers. “Excuse us!”

  Sally looked up as they entered, and immediately leapt to her feet. “That’s my cue. Nice flowers, Alex.”

  “Thanks, Sally,” he said, trying to appear nonchalant. As soon as the door was closed and they were alone, he said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stormed off last night. I was a bit of a drama queen.”

  Avery was still cradling her flowers, and she smiled at him, the scent enveloping her. “You had every right to be annoyed.”

  His eyes darkened. “I think I was experiencing a bit of my own guilt, actually.”

  Avery’s bright mood suddenly plummeted. “Why? Who have you kissed?”

  “No one. But I found myself flirting a bit too much with Kate at the bar yesterday, and it played on my mind.”

  “Kate with the nice arse?” Avery asked, struggling to control herself and not be a hypocrite.

  “Yes. But yours is better.” He hesitated as he looked at her face. “Much, much better!”

  She laughed at his meek expression. “Yes it is, never forget that. And you always flirt, so I’m not really sure what you’re apologising for.”

  Alex leaned against the wall, his hands in his jeans pockets, looking unbelievably sexy. “Yes, but it felt a bit more serious than it should have, and I have no idea why.” He shrugged. “Beltane stupidity. It got under my skin. So, last night when you talked about Caspian, I think it hit a nerve.”

  “I think we’re all feeling edgy,” she admitted. “Hence the crazy jazz music playing in the shop. Dan is determined to enjoy the bright side of Beltane, not the dark.”

  “Good man.” Alex stared at her a moment longer, a smile playing across his lips. “Are we okay?”

  “We’re more than okay.”

  “Good.” He grinned, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to the stairs. “Let’s make up in the best possible way!”

  “No, I have something to show you,” she protested as he pulled her up the stairs into the flat. “Caspian left some photos that we need to show Briar!”

  Alex was already starting to peel her clothes off. “Bollocks to Caspian’s photos,” he said forcefully. “And Briar can wait.”

  ***

  Avery discovered that Briar’s shop was a hive of activity, most of it revolving around Eli.

  He was working at the counter, grinding and measuring dried herbs, an array of jars and muslin bags next to him, while talking to several young women who were leaning on the counter, watching him and idly chatting. He looked up as they entered and smiled. “Hey guys, can I help you?”

  The bevy of females looked around at them, frowning at the interruption, and Avery tried and failed to suppress a grin. “Hey, Eli. You look busy.”

  Eli was utterly charming. He was as tall and broad-shouldered as the rest of the Nephilim, his voice was deep, his honey-coloured hair curled around his collar, and his smile was lazy and seductive. He joined them at the end of the counter, keeping a wary eye on his harem. “That’s one word for it. You want Briar, don’t you?”

  “We do—no rest for the wicked,” Alex said to him, raising an eyebrow. He looked over at the handful of women who were now chatting amongst themselves, all while watching Eli with surreptitious glances. “I admire your stamina.”

  Eli leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Supernatural strength has its advantages.”

  “How do you juggle them all and keep them so happy?” Avery asked, genuinely curious.

  “I share my favours equally, and promise nothing. Although, right now,” he added with a frown, “Beltane has intensified feelings, which makes my life a little bit harder. I guess it keeps things interesting.”

  A young woman with glossy blonde hair coughed gently at the other end of the counter, summoning Eli’s attention. “Eli, can I buy this, please?”

  He turned and beamed at her, and she visibly swooned. “Sure, coming right now.” He glanced back at Avery and Alex. “Briar’s out the back with Hunter, making more stock.”

  Leaving Eli with his customers, although Avery wasn’t sure that was really the right word for them, they headed to Briar’s stockroom, and found her with a row of glass jars in front of her that she was filling with a rose-coloured liquid. Hunter was stirring the contents of a pot on the stove on the far side of the room, and the back door to the small courtyard was open, allowing fresh air to circulate. The room smelt of lilac and lilies, and Avery inhaled with pleasure.

  “Hi, guys! Briar, it always smells divine in here.”

  “Hiya,” Briar said, glancing up. “Good to see you. Bear with me a moment while I finish this.”

  “I can’t stop, either,” Hunter said, still methodically stirring the pot. “She’s got me making potions.”

  “Helping to make potions,” Briar corrected him, “and it’s a tincture, actually.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever.”

  It was odd to see Hunter, dressed all in black and looking completely incongruous in Briar’s workshop, engaged in doing something so domestic.

  “Good to see Briar has you house trained,” Alex said as he joined him.

  “There are perks,” he answered.

  “Aren’t you worried about Briar working with Mr Handsome out there?”

  Hunter laughed. “Nope. I like to think I can make my woman happy.”

  Briar snorted. “Did you just say, ‘my woman?’”

  “Yes I did, and you know you like it,” he called back. “Besides
, Eli is sort of my God,” he admitted in a low voice, making Avery snigger. “Have you watched him at work? That man really knows women. It’s a skill, there’s no other word for it.”

  “I hear that,” Alex agreed.

  Briar finished filling her jars, wiped her hands on a cloth, and headed to Hunter’s side. She checked the consistency of the liquid in the pot, checked her watch, and then picked up a bowl of herbs and added it to the mix, uttering a spell under her breath. “You can stop stirring now,” she told Hunter, and Avery saw the liquid change colour.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s the base for my skin cream products. I’ll give you some to try.”

  “Thanks, Briar, it smells amazing.”

  “Anyway,” Briar said, satisfied, “have you two got news?”

  Alex pulled the photos out of his jacket pocket. “Caspian brought these over this morning—they’re of his grandfather. Do you recognise him as the ghost?”

  Briar took them off him and shook her head. “I’m afraid not. He wasn’t who I saw in the theatre.”

  “Damn it!” Avery said, not realising she’d put quite so much stock in them. “I really thought it would be him.”

  “He looks surprisingly like Caspian, doesn’t he?” Briar observed as she showed them to Hunter.

  Hunter nodded. “But I agree, he’s not the ghost.”

  Alex sighed. “Back to square one, then.”

  “We need to thoroughly read the articles Dan brought with him from the library,” Avery decided. “There must be something in there that we missed. I’ll do that this afternoon.”

  “Will this make it harder for you to summon him?” Hunter asked.

  Alex shrugged. “Maybe. Sometimes it helps to know something about the spirit, or to have something personal, but I can still make it work...I hope. I’m still not sure why he’s appearing, though. Maybe that’s what we should do tonight, after the performance.”

  “Conduct a séance?” Hunter asked. “I remember the last time you did something like that, and that bloody demon appeared.” Hunter shuddered. The appearance of demon in the mirror at the House of Spirits had caused Hunter to turn into his wolf, completely unbidden.

  “That won’t happen this time,” Alex reassured him. “This is a plain old ghost summoning, and maybe a banishing. It all depends how it’s bound up with the play.” He checked his watch. “I should be working this afternoon, but I could do with searching through my grimoire again. I’ll see if I can get some cover.”

  Avery nodded, pleased they had made some progress. “Come on, we better go.” As she spoke, she heard the beating of drums in the distance. “They must have started to celebrate the crowning of the May Queen. Let’s see it while we can,” she urged Alex. “Are you two going to watch?”

  “I’ve got more stock to make,” Briar said. “But you could go, Hunter.”

  He grimaced. “I’m not really the May Queen type!”

  “In that case,” Avery said, laughing, “we’ll be in touch about tonight.”

  Once outside, Alex and Avery followed the crowds down to the main street, the drums sounding louder and louder.

  As they turned the corner, they saw a parade of school children of a variety of ages marching down the road in spring costumes decorated with flowers and greenery, escorted by proud parents and teachers. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and Avery felt her spirits lift despite her worries as they weaved through the crowd.

  In the middle of the procession, and surrounded by some primary school children wearing flower wreaths, was a beautiful young woman in a blue gown covered in tiny flowers—the May Queen. As they reached the square, the parade slowed down, finally congregating together, humming with nervous energy as the young woman waited to be summoned. At the edge of the square on a raised dais were two enormous wooden thrones decorated with spring branches and greenery, and the ribbons of the maypole in the middle were unfurled, lifting lazily in the breeze.

  While the May Queen and her maidens waited on the edge of the square, the Morris dancers entertained the watching crowd, and Avery saw Stan waiting at the side in his cloak. It was a struggle to see properly because there were so many people around, but Avery was pleased to see Dan and Sally in the crowd, relieved they’d been able to close the shop. She also saw Rueben and Ash on the far side of the square, and presumed they were there because of the plants they’d provided. A woman stood next to Stan, her shock of her red hair making her stand out from the crowd. It was the Mayor, and she was carrying a beautiful crown of flowers, no doubt for the May Queen.

  The Morris dancers completed their performance, but the drums continued to slowly beat, and Stan stepped forward to welcome the onlookers and then urged the crowd to part, allowing a young man dressed in green to enter the square.

  It was the Green Man, the consort to the May Queen. Avery estimated that they were both only eighteen or nineteen, but they looked confident, and she knew from what Stan had previously told her that they were drama school students at the local college. They needed to be, she reflected. The main procession on Saturday required some maturity, and the ability to act because it was very dramatic. The costumes they would wear then must be far more impressive, and at dusk, with night falling and the fire jugglers lining the streets, they would look spectacular. This was just a warm-up.

  Nevertheless, today was an important part of the town’s celebrations, and Stan welcomed the Green Man and the May Queen in to the centre of the square, where the Mayor formally congratulated them and placed the crown of flowers upon the May Queen’s head. Then they were led to the thrones overlooking the maypole, and the young children who had accompanied the Queen each took a ribbon and started their dance.

  The crowd was charmed, and after a few minutes, Alex nudged her arm. “Come on, we’d better get back.”

  ***

  After lunch the two of them settled in the attic, Avery to read the articles that Dan had found, and Alex to search his grimoire and prepare to summon the ghost.

  Avery started by reading some of the reviews of the play in the local papers, and Dan was right, they were good. The leads were praised for their acting and the passion they bought to the performance, King Mark was described as regal and stoic in betrayal, and the Barons were suitably Machiavellian. The reviews also described the audience as being enraptured. No wonder, they were under a spell.

  Eventually, Avery started to read the reports of the deaths and the background on the main characters, and quickly spotted the reference to Kernow Industries. Then she found the article she’d read the night before that said for the previous few months Yvonne, who had played Iseult, had been working in a pub near the quay called The Silver Dolphin. The regulars spoke of her as friendly and hard working, and said she’d be missed. Avery leaned back on the sofa where she’d curled with the research.

  The Silver Dolphin by the quay.

  She turned to look at Alex where he sat at the table, head bent over his grimoire as he made notes. “Alex, has your pub always been called The Wayward Son?”

  He looked at her for a moment, struggling to focus. “No, it was something else first, but I can’t remember what. Something nautical.”

  “Was it called The Silver Dolphin, perhaps?”

  He frowned. “Yes, that’s sounds familiar. Why?”

  “Yvonne Warner, aka Iseult, worked there in the months before her death, after she worked at Kernow Industries—well, according to this article, anyway.”

  Alex slumped back in his chair, staring blankly at the pages in front of him. “Did she? My granddad would have owned the place then.” His fingers drummed the table, and he finally lifted his gaze and looked at Avery. “Shit. Should I be worried?”

  “I don’t know. I presume your granddad was a witch?”

  “Yes. I have no idea how powerful he was, though, or how he chose to use his magic.”

  “More importantly, was he tall and dark-haired? Isn’t that how Briar described the ghost?”

/>   “I think he was. It’s been years since I saw any photos of him, and I never met him, although I’ve been told I look a bit like him.”

  “Why didn’t you meet him?”

  “He was long gone when I arrived in the world.”

  “Gone where?”

  “Dead,” he said flatly. “My dad didn’t talk about him, and as you know, he’s in Scotland now, and I don’t hear from him that often.”

  Avery was trying not to presume too much, and knew Alex would be too, but this was an unfortunate connection. “Alex, have you got some photos of your granddad somewhere?”

  He nodded. “Probably in those boxes in the study. They’re full of old photos that I’ve been meaning to scan into the computer.” He flicked to the front of the grimoire that had been started in the eighteenth century, and Avery knew he’d be looking for his name. Every witch wrote his or her name on the first pages of the family grimoire, and every witch would have annotated or written new spells. “He’s here, Kit Bonneville.”

  Avery smiled. “Kit! That’s a cool name.”

  “Short for Kitto, I think, very Cornish!” Alex said, smiling briefly. The chair scraped the floor as he rose to his feet and headed to the stairs. “You’re wondering if he’s the ghost, aren’t you? I’m going to look.”

  “I’m afraid so,” she said, untangling herself from the paperwork and rising to her feet. “I’m coming, too.”

  Alex’s study was next to the living room, converted from what had been a spare bedroom. Avery smiled as she looked around. It was obviously his space. The room looked over the road at the front of the house, and he’d placed an old wooden desk there for the view. The computer and printer were lined up on the table, and a sleek leather desk chair sat in front of it. Alex had put shelves on the wall that were mostly filled with his books and other personal items, as well as the old photo albums he’d brought from his flat, accumulated over decades, and encompassing countless family holidays, Christmas mornings, weddings, and birthdays. It was these he headed to now, starting to move them onto the desk and rifle through them.

  He pushed a box towards Avery. “Try this one. The ones we want will be really old, from the fifties, maybe sixties.”